The Vera Case
by LizaCopson
Summary: Introduction and closing for an idea I had. There is a plot but this is not a full version; Poirot is tasked with finding out who killed a young woman called Vera. (By Gladys)


"I am not overweight Hastings, merely larger than your average Belgian."

Poirot smartened his suit and gave a derogative glance at Hastings.

"Well sorry old chap, but the doctor has ordered for you to go on a diet."

"You English and your health, do you think of nothing else? It's Christmas! Food is essential, non?

"Well, err, yes but in smaller portions."

Poirot sidled off to his desk, muttering in French.

"I got you a gift Poirot, granted it's a little early but I thought you needed a little cheering up."

Poirot gave a startled look,

"Thank you, Hastings but there was no need."

Poirot neatly opened the parcel, so no wrapping was ripped in the process and discovered a small spoon. It had an extra-long handle and was silver and dainty.

"It's an egg spoon. The handle is extra-long so you can check the sizing."

Poirot gave a look of uncertainty for this meant having to carry a spoon everywhere, just in case, which was not the normal thing to do. The phone in the other room rang and Miss Lemon responded. Suddenly, she appeared in the doorway,

"Sir, there has been a murder. It's on Penwell Lane, number 63."

"Come on Hastings, investigation awaits."

Poirot and Hastings grabbed their coats and hurried out the door.

"Taxi!"

Hastings rushed out the door waving a hand. A taxi pulled up and Poirot and Hastings got in.

"63 Penwell Lane."

"Righto."

The taxi purred on through streets and lanes, until it stopped at a grand mansion. Police swarmed the place. Poirot and Hastings squeezed through the police and entered through a big black door. Inside, was a palace of gold and chandeliers.

"Ah, Poirot, you're here."

"Yes, where is the body, Inspector Japp?"

"Upstairs, gunshot to the head, very quick and looks like close range. Not suicide, no sign of a gun. By the looks of things so far, nothing was taken, but have a look yourself."

Poirot entered the bedroom, whilst Hastings spoke to a policeman. On the bed was a woman in her mid-twenties with silky blonde hair.

"It's Vera Hemmingway. She's been living off daddy's big fortune, he owns a massive taxi service."

Inspector Japp rambled on as Poirot inspected the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He spotted a small wet patch on the night stand, it had a strange disinfectant smell.

"Inspector Japp, there is something on this nightstand."

"Oh yes, well we will take a sample and test it."

Poirot nodded and took another look at the sorry sight before him, such a young life, ended for some reason which Poirot was determined to find out.

* * *

Poirot walked hurriedly to the nearest telephone box,

"Inspector Japp, Scotland Yard",

He waited a second,

"Ah, Inspector you are going to hang the wrong man!" Gather together Lauren Clifford, Roger Manthorpe and Mr. Hemmingway. Meet me with all of them at 63 Penwell Lane in one hour."

Poirot placed down the phone.

An hour later, in the hall of 63 Penwell Lane sat Lauren Clifford, Vera Hemmingway's cleaner, Roger Manthorpe, Vera Hemmingway's fiancé and Mr. Hemmingway, Vera Hemmingway's father. They sat on a semi-circular sofa, with Poirot stood in front of them.

"I was challenged with the murder of a young Vera Hemmingway."

He turned to face Roger Manthorpe,

"Was it the fiancé, who regularly abused Ms. Hemmingway when he was drunk. Perhaps she wanted to get away from you and in anger thought that either you could have her or no one could."

Roger Manthorpe raged at Poirot,

"No it was not and keep your grubby little thoughts away from me!"

Inspector Japp interfered,

"Sit down, Mr. Manthorpe."

"Thank you Inspector."

muttered Poirot. He looked at Lauren Clifford,

"Or was it the old cleaner, who tried to take the diamond ring on the bedside table, but Ms. Hemmingway woke up and you shot her."

Lauren Clifford stiffened her lips but kept silent. Poirot laid icy eyes on .

"But, no, it was neither of you."

gave a nervous laugh,

"You cannot be serious, my own daughter!"

"No, you did not shoot Ms. Hemmingway but you did implicate Roger Manthorpe."

He turned to Inspector Japp,

"Yes Inspector, it was suicide."

Poirot swivelled back to face Mr. Hemmingway,

"You came to see your daughter that day only to find her dead on her bed, suicide not to tell you how miserable her life was. You, , immediately blamed her fiancé for driving her to the grave. So, you took the suicide note and gun. You also took the diamond ring as a reminder of her, which was a flaw in your plan. So was failing to completely burn the suicide note in her fireplace, which later Lauren Clifford would find. Later, you planted the gun in Roger Manthorpe's office to be discovered."

"No! She was my daughter, why would I do that?"

"You knew that he was abusing her and you thought that it made her kill herself, you wanted revenge; for Roger Manthorpe to be hung to pay for the life of your daughter."

Mr. Hemmingway screamed in anger and throttled Roger Manthorpe,

"You brute of a man, you low-life. To drive a young girl to the grave like that, you practically murdered her. The only thing that could have been justice was for you to be hung!"

Roger Manthorpe's face went purple as all the oxygen was being squeezed out of him. Two policemen dragged away screaming and crying in despair.

"Here you go chap, a lovely meal."

"Ah, _mon ami_ , thank you."

Hastings placed a bowl of salad in front of Poirot,

"What is this!"

"It is salad, Poirot, you are on a diet, doctors' orders!"

Poirot laughed and picked at the salad.

"Another case solved,

chuckled Poirot,

"But the next will be my death by starvation!"

Hastings and Poirot laughed together.


End file.
